


Catharsis

by anemptymargin



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Catharsis, Control Issues, M/M, Porn Battle, Roughness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Courier happens to be, by some twist of fate, a bringer of silence to the voices of those he couldn’t save, a bringer of sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> First time in the fandom, and a bit of a departure from my usual. Quite enjoyed this, actually. Thanks go to Missy for the beta!
> 
> Prompt: Porn Battle: Fallout: New Vegas, Craig Boone/Male Courier, silence

He hated New Vegas, but falling in with the Courier at least meant a warm bed and food somewhere you weren’t quite as likely to get shot or chewed on. They stayed away from the strip, but his fairly recent friend had made good with a local establishment that comped them a room with a window facing an alley.

“You’re pacing,” The Courier drew him out of his thoughts. He had a name, but it was easier for Boone to divorce himself from the inevitable pain of the wastes if he didn’t name them.

Boone checked out the window again, not bothering to respond. It was true. As close to satisfied with the situation as he could ever be, he rested his rifle under the window in case it should be needed, and slipped off his backpack and jacket.

His companion, the erstwhile Courier, had already stripped off his body armor and helmet and was on the bed examining it for nicks and signs of damage from their skirmish with a large group of geckos not far outside of town. They’d taken down most of them well before they were a danger, but a few managed to slip in close enough for the Courier to split their heads open with his pistol. Guy wasn’t bad at close range and handy when it came to tinkering with things. “Still looks good to me.” He noticed Boone watching and set aside the heavy armor. “You can sleep tonight, Boone – this is the safest bed in the wastes right now.”

Sleep was a cruel joke, but the closest description to be had for the few fitful hours of unconsciousness amidst bouts of voices screaming for him to protect them. It was only when the silence came he could allow himself to slip off to sleep.

The Courier, through accident it would seem, was a bringer of the silent calm. Boone nodded slowly and took off his beret, resting it respectfully on the bedside table before sitting down on the bed to unlace his boots.

“Eventually, I’ll get used to you not saying much.” The Courier stripped down quickly, making no pretense of modesty before lying out on top of the likely questionable sheets. “Right now it’s damn unnerving. Say something, anything, please.”

Boone peeled his shirt over his head, dogtags clanking back against his skin. “There’s nothing to say.”

“A real man of conversation.” The Courier sighed, shaking his head. “Try to get some rest, okay?”

They laid naked on the mattress until the slightly cooler shade of evening crept through the window, followed by the dark of night offset by the glow of old neon on the strip. Then, always well after twilight, Boone curled up on his side and bared his back to the first person he’s trusted since he lost everything.

The first time had been a fluke, they had split a jug of salvaged booze between them after taking down their first small group of Legion scum without even being seen, and at some point in the quiet drunken revelry around the campfire, the Courier had kissed him. With guts of liquid courage, he let it happen. The Courier was smooth faced and small bodied – agile and not like the usual assholes you ran into in the wastes and he’d served with under the NCR flag… when Boone stroked his short, dingy brown hair while fucking his mouth it wasn’t hard to imagine the sort of whore you’d pay top dollar for in any shady town. It had been so long since he’d found the peace of a simple orgasm that he didn’t even fight the smaller man’s hands pulling him down – pushing him onto his belly on his bedroll. He could have fought it easily, they weren’t even close to equally matched in basic upper body strength, but he didn’t. When the moment came, he pushed his belt down to his knees and took it all. And then there was silence and more sleep than he’d managed in the four days before combined.

Two nights later there was no drink – only the deafening screams in his head as they bedded down not far out of Bitter Springs. “Please.” He had begged, and gladly received.

When the Courier rolled inward to press back against him, he could already feel the man’s hardness digging into his hip with anticipation. “Do you want it tonight?” the Courier asked casually.

“Yes.” He answered, reaching back to grasp the man’s hand, drawing it over his hip and onto his hard-on.

He didn’t need another invitation; the Courier’s hand squeezed tight over the shaft and stroked him hard and deliberate. The other hand clasped over the back of his neck – even the loose grip signifying what didn’t need to be said. I’m in charge here.

With a guttural growl, the smaller man nudged him open with his hardness, penetrating with one hard thrust. Shaking, gasping silently as he submits and feels the pain mingle into pleasure, Boone began to feel human again. The Courier mumbled encouragements in his ear, but he was too focused on the pressure building with each thrust and stroke.

Boone came quickly, panting and undignified as he was merely rolled onto his knees and taken harder and faster. The soft squeal bedsprings and slap of skin against skin blended seamlessly with the Courier’s low grunts. A sticky palm was pressed hard against his mouth, fingers lewdly drawn across his lips, merely a further show of domination as they both knew he wouldn’t make a sound… perhaps couldn’t even.

His strong fingers dug hard into Boone’s hip and squeezed tighter over his lips; the Courier gave a low, bellowing cry – continuing to pound him against mattress even as he was shooting inside him.

And then the blessed catharsis. Silence so simple that even the pleasure of his slow withdrawal and the hard swat against his ass couldn’t draw him out again.

He would sleep another night, content only in the resting hours.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.


End file.
